cutedumbbunny

[cutedumbbunny]

Dog hybrid!soap and dog hybrid!reader who are both insanely feral much to the agony of the rest of the team.

When u first met soap, you had to bite back the growl in ur throat. His posture just screamed aggression, and while u were in his territory u weren't a bitch, you dont tolerate being stepped on. You try to keep it mildly civil, you promised laswell as much, but the second u two are on the mats after a week of tense conversations? Blood. Lots of it.

You nearly rip his throat out and he breaks ur nose. The fight is only broken up by ghost literally scruffing you two, but the barks and growls dont die down. Price is at his wits end and is about ready to send u both off when gaz is like "hey, dude, maybe dont send off two of ur best soldiers?? Literally just get them used to eachother??" And thus u and soap are sent on a duo mission.

Somewhere between the gunfire and the smoke left in the humid air, you and soap find a truce. Then you find a bit more when u realize the fellow dog isn't all that bad, just fiercely protective of his pack. Now imagine the teams surprise when u two get back and are all over eachother. Happy little yips and wagging tails, ur inseparable.

Its nice for you two to get along. Gaz can finally sleep now that ur not growling at eachother well into the night. Any hopes of rest are soon destroyed when u and soap start making *other* noises well into the night...😔 poor gaz.

[cutedumbbunny]

hate an x reader fic do not put me in a situation

[cutedumbbunny]

Ex-Boyfriend!Simon Riley X Reader

Secret Baby AU | He broke your heart. You left. Then you found out you were pregnant. A year later, fate throws you back in his path - with a baby that looks just like him.

I | You and Simon had a whirlwind romance during one of his rare long-term assignments. He was intense, quiet, and hard to read—but with you, he tried to open up. You gave everything. He gave just enough to make you believe it could last.

II | But it didn’t. One night, after weeks of emotional distance, Ghost shut you out completely - told you it was over, with no explanation. You tried to fight for him, asked what changed, begged him to tell you what he needed. He just said, “You deserve better."

III | Heartbroken, you packed your things and disappeared from Ghost's life. A few weeks later, you got sick. Tired. Nauseous. And then the test turned positive.

IV | You stared at the ultrasound photo alone in a small clinic. You thought about calling Simon. You typed out the message a dozen times. But you knew the damage. He made it clear - he didn’t want you, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting the baby too.

V | So you kept the secret. Moved somewhere new. Found a tiny apartment. Took on remote work. You did everything alone. And when your baby boy was born - dark eyes, a stubborn pout, and Simon's nose - you cried because it hurt and healed at the same time.

VI | Three months later, you’re walking through a rainy plaza in Manchester. Your son is tucked in a sling against your chest. You’re just trying to pick up baby formula when you hear a voice behind you - deep, clipped, unmistakable: “...Y/N?”

VII | You freeze. Turn slowly. And there he is. Simon Riley. No mask, just a hoodie. Taller than you remember. Paler. Scarred. Your eyes widen - but his eyes are already locked on the bundle against your chest.

VIII | Simon stares for what feels like forever. Your son makes a soft, babbling sound, and Simon’s breath catches. He takes a slow step forward and says, voice rough: “Is that…?” But you interrupt, panicked, breathless - “I have to go.”

IX | You rush off, heart pounding, trying not to cry. Simon doesn’t follow. Or maybe he does. You don’t look back. But that night, you can’t sleep. You can still feel his eyes on your son.

X | A few days later, you hear a knock at your door. You don’t answer. Then there’s a note slipped under it.

“I don’t deserve answers. But he does. Let me see him.” —S.R.

XI | You finally agree to meet. In a park. Neutral ground. Not for him - for your son. When he sees your son again - really sees him - he sinks to a bench like the wind’s been knocked out of him. “He looks like…”

He looks like you, Simon

You nod. “Yeah. I know.”

XII | Simon holds the baby like he’s made of glass. His voice is barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your hands shake. “Because you didn’t want me. I thought… if you didn’t want me, you wouldn’t want him either.”

He goes silent. Then says something that breaks your heart all over again:

“I pushed you away because I thought it would keep you safe. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And now, he’s here. And I missed it.”

XIII | There’s a long pause. Neither of you knows what happens next. You’re still angry. Still afraid. But when your son curls a tiny fist around Simon’s thumb, something in both of you shifts.

XIV | t’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But when he looks at you - really looks - you see the man you once loved, and the man your son might need.

I LOVE THE SECRET BABY TROUPE AND I AM NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT 🗣🗣🗣🗣

All rights reserved © 2025 DarlingsBlackBook

[cutedumbbunny]

Soap is getting rowdy with you and the boys as he normally does, when u jokingly grab the back of his collar and say "settle down pup." And he outright groans. Sits down instantly, shuts the fuck up and doesn't even register the baffled laughter coming from the rest of the table bc all he can think abt is being a good dog for u.

[cutedumbbunny]

He Doesn’t Speak Until You’re Holding Him Again

He channels his emotions through you (literally). I'm sorry its kinda long.

He left again. You didn’t text. Didn’t call. The silence was a wound, and you let it bleed. Because this wasn’t new—not really. Knew what it meant when Simon disappeared. It meant he was scared.

Not of you, but of what loving you was turning him into. Of the parts of himself he thought had been long buried coming alive again. Softness. Need. Hope.

The first time, you thought you’d done something wrong. The second time, you begged him. Just tell me next time. Let me know you’re okay. And still… this time, no word. Just the echo of his absence.

So when the door opened five days later, and he stepped in like he’d never left—eyes bloodshot, hands clenched—you didn’t shout. Didn’t cry. You just stood there, heart hammering. And he looked at you like he didn’t deserve to be looked at at all.

You let him in. Like you always do. And now...now he’s inside you.

You’re in his lap, knees spread wide, body molded to his. You’re facing him, straddling him on the edge of the bed, his cock seated so deep you swear you can’t breathe right. His hands are on your hips—holding, not guiding. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t keep you anchored there.

Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, and your forehead is pressed to his. He hasn’t moved in a while. Just breathing. Just there.

You’re soaked. You’ve been like this for minutes—no thrusting, just the feel of him. Heavy and deep and so close it’s maddening. Every nerve in your body tightens with the way he holds you—gentle, but solid. There’s reverence in it. Restraint.

He shakes once. A breath, stuttering from his lips. Then, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The words ghost out of him like a secret. Not really meant for you, but said anyway. You want to respond. Your lips part. But you stop. You don’t say anything.

Because you know. This is how it works. He needs to get it out and you need to let him. He exhales slowly, nostrils flaring. His hands flex on your hips. And then—

“I’ve never… wanted someone like this.” His voice is hoarse. Raw. “Not even close.”

You try to stay still. Try to hold on to the control he’s trusting you with. But your hips shift, barely, and the drag of his cock inside you punches the air from your lungs. Your fingers tighten on the back of his neck, and you clench around him hard enough he groans—quiet, but guttural.

He thrusts—once. Deep. Slow. And it hits everything.

“I thought,” he says, breath ragged, “if I stayed gone long enough… the need would go away.”

Your jaw tenses. Your eyes burn. He moves again, sliding out so slow it feels like a tease, like punishment, and then pushing back in just as carefully. You bite your lip. Hard.

“I missed you like I’d lost a limb.” His voice breaks on it. “And it scared the fuck out of me.”

You can’t help it—you whimper. Soft, but it splits the air between you. He trembles beneath you like the sound undid something inside him.

Your head drops to his shoulder. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“I’ve never made love before,” he whispers. “Not like this. Never wanted to. Never thought I’d get the chance.”

Your breath hitches—words bubbling up in your chest. “Simon—”

“No.” He cuts you off, but not harshly. His mouth finds yours. Kisses you soft. Slow. Tongue barely brushing. “Let me… let me say it before it eats me alive.”

You nod. You don’t trust yourself to speak again.

He rolls his hips. Slow. So unbearably slow it hurts. Your body clenches without permission, and your nails bite into his shoulders.

He doesn’t stop. “I’m scared every time I touch you,” he says, breath trembling.

You moan. Quiet. A sob in disguise. He feels it—feels your body tighten again and holds you through it, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

“Not because I don’t want to… but because I do.” Another thrust—long and deep, dragging over every place that lights your nerves. “So much it makes my hands shake.”

They are. Shaking. One of his hands slides up your spine, broad palm stroking over the back of your shirt, grounding you.

“I don’t know how to be that and still be me.” Your throat closes.

He’s fucking you like the rhythm is synced to his heart. Every motion slow, devastating, steady. Not stopping. And you—God—you’re falling apart. Silently.

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Just air. Just trembles. Because your body is trying to fall apart but you won’t interrupt him. You won’t.

He feels it. He holds you closer.

“I want to be soft with you,” he breathes. “I want to show you every part I’ve kept hidden. Even the ones I hate.”

Your eyes flood. Your arms shake. He doesn’t stop. And it builds.

He’s holding you still while he confesses, while he fucks you like he’s memorizing every inch of you, every sound you try to suppress. The burn of him inside you is constant, every drag slow and torturous, but it’s the emotion in it that’s ruining you.

And then, “I love you.” It’s not shouted. Not grand.

Just true. True.

“I love you so fucking much it makes me sick.”

That’s it. Your body gives out. Orgasm hits like a wave crashing into bone.

You cry—fully cry—as your body pulses around him, thighs trembling, face buried in his neck, broken sounds slipping from your lips without shame. It’s too much. It’s everything. It’s him.

He holds you.

Doesn’t move faster. Doesn’t chase his own. Just stays inside, deep and grounding, his arms wrapped around you like protection itself. He whispers into your hair, breath catching.

“I’m still not done talking.”

Your heart splits open. You nod—barely—too ruined to do anything else.

And he starts again. Moving, slow. Again. Deeper. Not done with you. Not done speaking.

“I thought I was past this,” he murmurs, his voice steady now. “Past loving anyone like this.”

You tremble in his arms.

“But I want everything with you. All of it.”

You cry again—but it’s quieter this time. Softer. Acceptance blooming behind the ache. He kisses your temple. Keeps going. Keeps loving you with his body.

“I don’t want to leave anymore.”

And then—he falls quiet. His rhythm shifts just slightly. Not faster, but fuller. Like he’s focused now. Intent. You feel the change before he speaks again—his breath warm at your ear, his hand sliding between your bodies to touch you where you’re already aching.

“You’ve got one more for me, haven’t you?”

Your breath stutters. “You can give me another,” he whispers, voice low and reverent. “Just one more.”

You nod—but it’s a broken nod, lips parted, unable to speak.

“Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart again.”

He moves with purpose now—still slow, still devastating, but direct. His fingers rub slow circles, his cock dragging deep, hitting that spot inside that makes your spine arch and your mouth open in a sob.

You clutch at him, arms tight around his shoulders, every nerve lit up again. “Simon” you gasp, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he breathes. “You’re mine. Let me have it.”

And you do. You fall apart again, right there in his arms—louder this time, trembling through it, voice breaking on his name. It hits hard. Fast. Completely. He doesn’t stop until your body’s shivering and twitching from overstimulation, tears streaking your cheeks, your lips parted and gasping for air.

Only then—only after you’ve given him everything—does he let go.

He buries himself deep and stays there, trembling as he spills into you with a quiet, broken sound. Not loud. Not frantic.

Just your name. Breathed like a prayer. Like relief.

And then he’s holding you again—really holding you—his chest rising against yours, one hand splayed between your shoulder blades, the other stroking your thigh, grounding you.

You’re both shaking. But neither of you pull away.

[cutedumbbunny]

Price and his controversially young girlfriend meeting the guys, right? Except before u do price has to sit u down like "baby I know you think it's funny but you cannot call me dad or daddy tonight, ill never hear the end of it"

Anyways u behave for most of the night, but when price relents and agrees to buy u dessert u dont even think before saying "thank you daddy!" And the whole table falls silent.

You get that ice cream brownie u wanted, and price gets relentlessly teased by his men lol.

[cutedumbbunny]

immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again

[cutedumbbunny]

daily affirmations:

i am kind

i am in control of my emotions

it does not bother me when someone is in the kitchen while i was planning to be in there alone

everyone in the house has the right to be in the kitchen

i am kind and in control of my emotions even when someone is in the kitchen while i was planning to be in there alone

[cutedumbbunny]

When Minthara said "self depreciation is not endearing, it's demeaning" I've been living by that. Thank you, my sexy murder Drow wife.

[cutedumbbunny]

man i have so few criteria when it comes to monsterfucking it's like:

does it have a huge dick it can put inside me

is it bigger than me and vaguely humanoid

will it cry if something happens to me

will it tell me i'm pretty

[cutedumbbunny]

Soap teasing u abt some insanely fruity cocktail ur drinking so u ask "do you want a sip?" And before he can grab ur glass u grip his jaw and pull him into a kiss. Literally forcing the drink into his mouth in front of the whole table, grinning when he swallowed and you lick into him for a moment to savor the taste.

Anyways ghost has to literally scruff soap to stop him from going down on u in the middle of a public bar lol

[cutedumbbunny]

can I. can I say something about professional published smut. a lot of times they are too foul mouthed with it. thats not where the sexiness lies

[cutedumbbunny]

I just wanted to say, hai hallo, I love your wolfy cowboy man and wish to offer him a snuggle for his poor calf. 😔

The calf butts its soft little head into your thigh as it slowly circles around you. It's still wobbly on his knocked knees, but it's hungry enough to nudge and push for the bottle in your hands. You turn to Beau and he gives you a nod, biting his lower lip to hide his smile. You present the bottle and the baby takes it immediately and suckles.

"It's so tiny," you coo.

"Yeah, he's a skinny one." Beau leans back on the stall door, kicking sawdust up under his heel. "We're gonna make him fat soon enough."

With your free hand, you stroke its ear. It's like velvetine, but hot under your touch.

"What's his name?" you ask.

"I don't usually name the cows." Beau gives you that smile, the soft one that reaches his eyes before it touches his lips. "You already have a name picked out, don'tcha?"

You have to look away to hide your smitten look. "Butterscotch."

He hums a long note. "Alright, okay. Butterscotch it is."

.

Two mornings later, Beau calls you. You're still in your pajamas, waiting for breakfast to finish cooking. Seeing his name makes you giddy... and that makes you anxious

"Good morning," you yawn into the receiver, trying to act as cool as possible. "I was just thinking about you."

"Hey." There's ice in Beau's tone. "Don't come over today."

That glimmering feeling inside you is gone. "What happened?"

"We're gonna be burying that calf," he says, no hesitation. It's nearly heartless, the way he just says it without warning.

"Butterscotch?"

"Yeah."

"He was okay yesterday."

"And now he's not."

You nibble on the edge of your nail until the skin aches.

"Are you okay?" you ask. A long stretch of quiet sits between you, so long that you almost think he's hung up, until he sighs right into the receiver.

"That's why I don't name the damn things."

And then the line clicks off

[cutedumbbunny]

if wolf form beau somehow breaks free, is he immediately pouncing on reader? does he try to fight those urges?

tw: noncon ish, dubcon, werewolf fuckin

.

"Beau!" you try to push on to your hands, but he's too heavy, the sheer force of his bucking hips slamming you into the hardwood. Claws circle your waist and the press of sharp into your skin steals a gasp from you. Beau. Beau would never hurt you, you try to remember, but you aren't sure if that's still true.

Because this is not your Beau.

Your fears are sated as Not Beau he pulls his hands downwards and tugs, ripping at your jeans until they are nothing but tatters, strips that do nothing to protect your awaiting cunt. Panic has you quivering, but there's no denying how glossed your legs are with your own excitement.

"Shh," His voice is a rolling growl. His frame is so massive against you that his body is stretched well past your head, his long, angled legs easily two feet longer than your own. The heat of him contrasts with the chill of the wooden floor; his torso presses against your back and all you can do is wiggle and try to breathe under the growing weight of him sinking down into you.

There's a nudge.

You know Beau's cock is big. You've been staring at it during every full moon.

But when it presses against your wet folds, you're suddenly very aware that it's massive. The angled head runs across your pussy so gently thst it feels aimless (even though you know it's not aimless. It's very much aimed towards entering you, fucking you, breeding you-) and Beau let's out a gritted huff. this hips move again, then again, missing entering you and just fucking himself against your pussy. The grooves and ridges of his dick grind against you clit as he goes and you cant help but open your knees wider for him.

When he pulls away, this time farther, a large drop of precum drops down from his hanging cock, right on to your asshole. It feels unnervingly hot at first, but then it rolls down on to your cunt.

The heat spreads, blossoming from your clit all the way your womb. It's prickly and buzzing, this all consuming thing that simply, truly, purely-

Feels really fucking good.

This time, when his dick misses its mark and runs over your sex, the feeling is absolutely electric.

"Oh," The way the voice seeps from you is delightfully embarrassing. "Ooohh."

From above you, Beau growls in delight. Drool drips from his jaws, down onto the floor in front of you. You wonder if you tasted it, it would make your body hot like his other fluids seem to do-

That trains of thought is interrupted when the tip of his cock finds purchase. The pressure against your entrance shocks a gasp from you, but your body leans into it, helping the monster above you slip inside. The balance of pain and pleasure, dear and want, makes your legs quiver.

Half of his tapered tip sinks inside before the resistance of your body becomes too much. Your cunt pulses uncontrollably, the dizzying effect of his precum not enough to fight the discomfort, but also inching a burning want up your spine. Beau nashes his teeth together, gripping your arms harder as if you could possibly get away-

As if you could ever want to get away. No, as his cock continues to dribble into you, the twisted gut desire itches deeper and deeper, to a place you couldn't touch if you tried. You need his cock. Need it, even if it absolutely breaks you.

"Not gonna fit." His voice is warped in his canine mouth. At the peak of his transformation, he can barely manage a full sentence.

His hips jerk forward and you yip in pain.

"I want you," you whine. "Want you all the time, Beau."

He won't remember this.

"My husband was so small-" you whimper. "Need you to stretch me out over my fucking coffee cable. fuck me 'til I cry every morning-"

Beau reels back at this and you think you've said something wrong until he fuckes into your thighs again. His whole body hunches. flattening himself as close you as possible, coupling your head in his arms. That spit is now running down your neck, tricking to your shoulder blades as he fucks himself into you.

It's all greedy, selfish movements. and yet when his cock rubs against your wanting clit, you cry and beg and keen and---

When your orgasm hits, everything goes white. Sounds leave your mouth and you're too busy twitching to stop it. It's so overwhelming that it almost feels like your body had betrayed you. Beau seems to understand what's happening; his muzzle nips and nudges at the back of your head as he continues rutting harder and harder. He's only a couple moments behind you, burying himself into your thighs with a gnarled groan. His cuk is thick. Hot. And it pools under you in a ludicrous amount. A flicker of you is almost relieved; there's no doubt in your mind. That would have bred you.

"Waste," he grumbles as he pulls away. Without his weight, you can pull in a deep breath and the exhaustion hits you. You slump down, only for the hulking hands to grip at your waist and lifts you off of the ground.

Fear hits you again. A second round? You couldn't possibly. Your cunt aches and you haven't even been fucked-

He carries you over to the bed and those golden eyes catch you as he lays you back down. There's a careful inspection of your face and body, a touch of a bruise on your shoulder. When you don't react, he nods and leaves you there, atop the comforter.

Honestly, fully human men have treated you worse. As he skulks off to the other side of the room, an emotion in you dips. You don't want to be alone; you'd rather be with him, on the floor in a puddle of cum.

You need to keep him with you. Need to tempt him over.

"Beau," you call and he perks up immediately. "Come here."

The way something so massive suddenly caves to your whimsical gives you a sick satisfaction. You run your fingers through your folds and hold up your hand for him, letting the wetness string between your fingers.

"Taste."

Beau obeys. The mattress creaks under his weight as he eases over top of you, straining for your outstretched hand. His tongue is rough and thick, strong enough that he cleans your fingers in a couple strong licks.

"Good boy," you say. Surprisingly, the werewolf seems to like the praise. Good.

"Taste." You touch yourself again and rub it down the side of your neck. Again, the tongue do

"Taste." You hlaze your own tits with it. Beau licks and nips again, this time much longer than needed. Sleep is going to overtake you, but the attention and warmth of his body feels good to bask in.

"Do you like my tits, Beau?"

He groans an affirmative. The flicker of tongue against your nipple sends butterflies across your skin, but you can't pull yourself awake enough to enjoy it.

"Does human Beau like my tits too?"

"Yes," he grits into the fat of your chest just as you start to drift. "Human Beau likes everything about you. Human Beau wants you bred full too."

.

When morning rises, the room smells like sex. There's the comforting weight of a man on top of you, his face

From his place between your legs, Beau's human cock is pressed right against your sex once again, tip barely kissing your entrance. It's smaller, of course, but it's in no means small. It would still ache to take, still shake your legs-

You think, maybe, if you could tilt your pelvis just a hair, you could get the whole tip in without him waking up and ruining your fantasy...

[cutedumbbunny]

Kiss thy knights

[cutedumbbunny]

I'm not just a bitch, I'm a bitch with a backstory

[cutedumbbunny]